


Swan's Flight

by bookstoreromantic



Series: Unwanted Destiny [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse, F/M, Lieutenant Duckling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4200978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookstoreromantic/pseuds/bookstoreromantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after the events of Second Strike at the Heart, Emma is finally able to fulfill her dream of sailing across the ocean with Killian. The two are due to represent her parents at the wedding of Princess Anna but unseasonable weather and news of an old enemy returning force a change in plans and Emma will either have to seize a power she fears, or risk losing the one she loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ice in the Mist

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! This is the third (and final) part of the Unwanted Destiny series so for any new readers, I highly recommend reading Unmistaken and Second Strike at the Heart first. Last time around I had the first five chapters written before I posted anything but I haven't done that this time. Hopefully the speed that this one got finished in is a good sign, but I do have another project that I'm also working on. And for any Newfoundlanders reading, yes I did basically rip-off a Screech In Ceremony. I sent them sugaring off last story, figured I may as well shove my Canadiana in right off the bat.

            Princess Emma, first of her name, heir to the throne of her kingdom, and only child of their royal majesties Queen Snow White and King James, stood at the bow of the _Swan’s Flight_ and breathed in deep the salty ocean air. This spot was her favourite part of the ship. The wind in her face, nothing but sea and sky before her as far as the eye could see... there was nothing else on earth that compared.

            Even now, days into their journey, she could hardly believe that she’d finally convinced her parents to let her travel across the ocean with Killian. Over the three years since he’d come to stay in the Enchanted Forest, she’d been gradually allowed more freedom and had been sent on a greater number of diplomatic trips but still never beyond the borders of the Enchanted Forest. And while Killian had taken her sailing on the _Swan’s Flight_ a number of times, they were always under orders to stay in coastal regions. The journey across the ocean and through the mist had always been deemed too long and risky for the crown princess to undertake. Until now.

            Six months ago, work had been completed on the Gordian Canal which cut through the bridge of land that connected the kingdoms of King Midas and King Eric. Killian had spent months helping with the construction; the pegasus sail proving a useful resource for transporting workers and material between the two coasts. Emma had visited while he was away and they had toured the construction site along with Eric and Ariel’s daughter, Princess Melody. Now that it was finished, the canal shortened the journey from six weeks down to two, with ships from the western side of the Enchanted Forest no longer needing to navigate around the continent to reach the Misty Ocean and the kingdoms of Futhark on the other side.

            Relations with the various island nations had become strained following Hans’ crimes and his subsequent banishment, but about a year afterwards the formerly isolationist Kingdom of Arendelle had reached out, seeking allies after also suffering an attempted coup by the youngest Southern Isles prince. Now, Emma and Killian were travelling there as representatives of her parents attending the wedding of Princess Anna. Given the execution order waiting for him in the place of his birth, this was probably the closest she would ever get to visiting Killian’s homeland.

            He’d been furious when they’d found out about Hans’ attempt to steal the Arendelle crown. The fact that his brother’s murderer remained free to commit further acts of villainy was frustrating for everyone. Her parents had petitioned King Anders to hold his son responsible but their charges had fallen on deaf ears and Hans had been left unhindered and continued causing damage wherever his ambitions led him.

            Emma knew that despite the happy occasion for their trip, there would be much talk of Hans once they reached the Nordic kingdom. Their invitation from Queen Elsa had included a missive detailing concerns she had about a surge in recruitment for the Southern Isles military and patrols of the arctic tundra that came too close to Arendelle’s borders for comfort. The tiny but rich nation was trying to open its gates to the world once more, but its ruler was justifiably afraid of what else might sneak in.

            “Milady, you should not spend so much time out in the sun. Your lady mother will have me hanged if you attend the princess’ wedding looking like a tomato.”

            Emma turned to face Madelyn and not for the first time wondered why the lady-in-waiting had volunteered to accompany her on the journey. The young noblewoman was covered from head to toe, various swaths of light fabric draped around her that made her look like she was destined for Agrabah rather than Arendelle.

            “That’s exactly why I have this,” she said, pointing to the wide-brimmed hat atop her head that was kept in place by a thin strap under her chin. Killian had presented it to her before they’d set off and the sides could be laced up to create a tricorne hat just like the one he still insisted on wearing.

            They’d been at sea for four days now, and she’d spent most of that time up on the deck trying to convince Killian to give her something to do. He, however, was adamant that this was an official expedition and it would be improper for her to assist as she enjoyed doing when they went on their sailing excursions. Gods knew she loved him, but it was difficult for her to sit in leisure while all around her people were working. And it was only going to get worse. Now that they were through the canal, they’d soon be sailing through the mist and Killian was adamant that she stay below those three days to ensure she didn’t slip and injure herself on the deck. Already her fingers itched to _do_ something — Emma was not made for weeks spent doing little but reading and playing cards.

            A shout went up among the men and her gaze shifted from Madelyn over to where a sailor was reeling in what looked to be a decent-sized fish. Killian had set men to the task as soon as they had exited the canal, though why he was so fixated on having a fresh catch when they’d just replenished supplies was beyond her.

            Sure enough, her captain left the helm to inspect the fish and when he looked up and found her watching his face split into a grin.

            “Princess!”

            Emma rolled her eyes as he beckoned her over. Their courtship was hardly a secret, yet even here, where the only person above him in rank was her, Killian still refused to call her by her name while in public. She supposed it counted as a blessing that he didn’t also drop the near constant stream of endearments — though given how easily they fell from his lips she wondered if he even could.

            Stepping down to the mid-deck, Madelyn following behind, she approached the group that had gathered around the captain and his sought-after fish.

            “Captain Jones,” she said, nodding in greeting, her eyes flicking down to the wriggling cod in his hands. “Is this to be dinner?”

            “This?” he asked, handing the ugly fish off to one of his sailors who set about removing the hook. “Oh no, this creature holds a far greater purpose than some mere meal.”

            Emma raised an eyebrow at his cocksure demeanor and waited for him to elaborate. He had something up his sleeve, of that she was sure.

            “There’s a tradition in the Southern Isles,” he began. “A time-honoured ritual that’s celebrated the first time a sailor sets off across the sea. In order to truly live and work among the waves, you must undergo a sailorin’. Are you willing, love?”

            Emma glanced between him and the codfish being held by the master boatswain. “That depends. What role does the fish play?”

            The corner of his mouth lifted up in a smirk and he produced a shot glass, holding it out to be filled by one of his men. “It’s quite simple, really. You kiss the lips of the cod, drink the rum, and are proclaimed a sailor by all those who witness it.”

            “You’re asking the crown princess to kiss… that?”

            Killian followed her lady’s gaze to the struggling fish. “Aye. You’re welcome to partake as well, milady,” he said with a wink.

            Madelyn looked horrified by the suggestion and Emma stifled a laugh. “I’m supposed to believe that you’ve done this?” she asked. About half of Killian’s crew were men that had followed him from the Southern Isles and she wouldn’t put it past any of them to play some sort of prank on her.

            “My very first day as a cabin boy after Liam brought me aboard,” he answered proudly, puffing his chest out. She bit her lip, picturing him doing the same as a young boy with the fish held in front of him.

            “All right,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I’ll do it.”

            The crew cheered and Emma turned to face the fish, pursing her lips into an exaggerated pucker as she leaned forward. Her face scrunched at the feel of the cod’s wet, slimy mouth and she drew back quickly, turning to take the drink from Killian.

            “Shout ‘ahoy’ when you’ve finished it, love,” he said as he held it out for her.

            “You’re serious?”

            “A sailorin’ is no joke, Your Highness.”

            She fixed him with a skeptical look as she brought the shot of rum to her lips then downed it in one go. The liquor burned going down her throat and she gasped, turning the glass over to prove she’d done it.

            “Ahoy!”

            “Ahoy!” the crew echoed with enthusiasm. “An’ long may yer big jib draw!”

            Killian stepped closer and thumped her on the back. “Well done, love,” he murmured, taking the empty shot glass from her.

            Emma leaned into him as the crew began to disperse. “That rum was awful.”

            She could feel him chuckle as his arms came around her. “Aye, it is that. I’ve heard lesser men screech after just a sip. I’m a bit afraid now, watching you down it so easily.”

            “If I were you, I’d be more afraid that I’ve developed a taste for fish,” she teased. “What if I decide to throw myself overboard and elope with a merman?”

            He barked out a laugh as she turned in his arms. “Well then, I suppose I’ll just have to remind you of what you’d be missing out on.”

            He leaned in to kiss her but she pulled back enough to stop him. “Tell me,” she said, tracing the high collar of his navy jacket with her fingertips. “Did you make that up, or is that truly a Southern Isles tradition?”

            He grinned and dipped his head to kiss her cheek. “Of course it is, love. Why wouldn’t it be?”

            She hummed, lifting her chin and pushing up onto her toes to kiss him properly. He kept it chaste and sweet but that didn’t stop the crew from whistling at them.

            “Oh sod off, the lot of you!” he yelled, waving an arm in mock anger. “It’s not like you’re not all used to it by now.”

            Emma laughed and turned back to face the water, sighing happily as his arms wrapped around her once more.

* * *

            In the Southern Isles and the other kingdoms of Futhark, they called the Enchanted Forest ‘Misthaven’ for the expanse of mist that covered the ocean between their lands. Not even the fairies knew what had caused it, nor the reason for its constant presence. Queen Ariel had told her once that there were stories about it under the sea as well, but no one knew anymore if they held any truth. The mysterious phenomenon had made crossing the ocean difficult for centuries, and only relatively recent advancements in shipbuilding had allowed the Enchanted Forest to open to trade from the other side of the world.

            Killian said that it would take them three days to sail through it, and then another week before they reached their destination. She’d questioned why they didn’t simply fly over it with the pegasus sail, but he felt it was safer to cross the normal way. If anything went wrong while they were in the sky, the lack of visibility would make their landing even more perilous.

            The sun was sitting low on the horizon by the time they reached the edge of the fog and the sky was above them was streaked in orange and pink with a handful of purple clouds outlined in gold. Emma stood on the quarterdeck watching it, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders to ward off the evening chill. Despite it being high summer, the temperature had dropped just after dinner but she didn’t want to retreat below deck until she absolutely had to. Not when Killian was likely to lock her down there should she try to come back up.

            “See anything interesting?” he asked and she blinked, realizing that she’d been staring off into the distance for some time.

            “I thought there was nothing to see in the mist and that I wouldn’t be missing anything by staying below.”

            Killian sighed and pulled the spyglass out of his coat, offering it to her. “Best make sure beforehand then, aye love?”

           The open adoration on his face softened her. Emma may have been slightly bitter about being banished from the deck, but she knew that he was only trying to keep her safe. This trip meant a lot to both of them, and making certain it went flawlessly would increase the possibility for other adventures together far from home.

            She smiled at him as she wrapped her fingers around the warm, smooth metal and lifted it to her eye. The lingering sunlight danced over the fog, lighting up the penetrable bits in soft, muted colours. As she scanned the mist, a flash of something caught her eye and she tracked back to see what it was.

            “I thought you said there wouldn’t be any icebergs at this time of year,” she said, fixing her sight on the tabular sheet of ice poking out of the mist.

            Killian was at her side again in an instant. “What’s that, love?”

            “Icebergs,” she repeated, handing him the spyglass and pointing out the spot. “You said it was too late in the summer for them to be around still.”

            He cursed under his breath and called his lieutenant over, the two of them stepping away to discuss the matter in hushed voices. Emma stayed watching the ice and tried not to be obvious about listening in on their conversation. From the bits she could catch it sounded like Killian was worried about there being more hidden within the mist and they were debating whether or not it would be safer to use the pegasus sail and avoid the foggy expanse altogether.

            There was another flash and Emma’s back went ramrod straight, her gaze searching the ice that had pushed further out from the mist.

            “Killian,” she said, reaching an arm back for him, not wanting to look away in case she had imagined it. “Killian.”

            “What is it, love?” he asked, moving to stand beside her and raising the spyglass to have another look.

            “Bloody hell.”

            Another flash struck out, sharp and blue against the orange sky, and the ice pushed a little further closer to them. Killian’s eyes met hers for a moment, his jaw clenched tight, and she didn’t have to ask to know that her hunch had been right.

            There was someone out there. Someone magical.

            He gave her shoulder a tight squeeze and then he was off, stalking the deck and barking orders to the crew. A side boat was readied and three men lowered down. Emma stayed out of the way until they hit the water then moved to stand beside her captain, linking her fingers with his as they watched and waited.

            The mood on the ship had fallen to something tense and foreboding and it seemed like it took eons for the crewmen to row out to the ice. The return trip felt even longer, and Emma held Killian’s hand tight to keep from fidgeting. Try as she might, she couldn’t suppress the dread rising up in her. The sense that something was very, very wrong and only about to get worse.

            Everyone who knew what Hans had done in Arendelle knew also of the queen’s ice magic. If it was manifesting this far from her kingdom, when guests were travelling from all over for her sister’s wedding...

            Finally, the men returned to the ship, a frightened young woman of about Emma’s age in the rescue boat with them. Killian moved immediately to help her over the side of the rail and Emma watched her hesitate before she took his hand. She was trembling and looked exhausted but otherwise seemed unscathed from whatever ordeal she’d been through. Tiny snowflakes fell around her and bits of ice clung to her hair, her long braid so pale it seemed almost white. There was frost coating her fingertips and the bottom of her dress and her eyes darted around the ship like she expected to be attacked. Emma took a deep breath, knowing that whatever news she carried it would be nothing good.

            Stepping forward, she took both of the queen’s hands in hers, forcing the other woman’s eyes up to her.

            “Your Majesty,” she said in a firm voice, trying to infuse as much warmth into it as she could. “My name is Princess Emma, and I am the daughter of Queen Snow White and King James. You are safe here.”

            Elsa’s hands gripped hers tightly and Emma braced herself against the cold. “I am safe nowhere. Arendelle has fallen. Hans has taken the kingdom.”


	2. Queen Elsa

            Killian grit his teeth and tried to not let his frustration show, fighting the urge to get up from his chair and pace the room. “What do you mean you don’t know how he did it?”

            After the Arendelle queen had been brought aboard, he’d given up his cabin so she could rest following her ordeal. While Emma had gone below with her, Killian had stayed on deck and put the crew back to work, chafing with the knowledge that all he could do for now was turn them around. His princess had summoned him about an hour later, saying that Queen Elsa had recovered a little and was ready to tell them what had happened.

            Not that that was turning out to be anything of much use.

            The queen sat tall on the edge of his bed but he could tell that she was trying to control her nerves. A light coating of frost appeared and disappeared on her hands each time she twisted them in her lap. Killian took a deep breath and kept his gaze on her face, determined not to stare.

            “It was the dead of night when the guard came with the order to evacuate,” she began. “The castle defenses had been breached without so much as an alarm being sounded. None of the men I spoke to knew how many there were and I never once saw any of them. There were Arendelle guards who had fallen and I could hear fighting… but it was always just around the corner.”

            Emma reached over and covered the queen’s hands with her own, a thin sheet of ice cracking under her palm. “But you’re certain it was Hans?” she asked softly.

            The pale blonde nodded. “I saw him before we sank. The tunnel I took led down to the harbour and I was able to board a ship. We were a few days out when we realized we were being pursued. The captain hoped to lose them in the mist, but they were too fast. We were outmanned and outgunned, and when they caught up to us on the edge of the fog…” she trailed off. Emma squeezed her hand in support and she took a moment before straightening her shoulders once more.

            “Captain Meadows gave the call to abandon ship and that’s when I saw him.”

            “There were men with you out on the ice?” Killian demanded, standing abruptly from his chair. The words came out far harsher than he would have liked, but his gut roiled at the thought of having abandoned men to die in his haste to keep Emma away from Hans.

            Emma shot him a look from where she sat next to the queen and he swallowed thickly but if Queen Elsa minded his outburst, it didn’t show.

            “A few,” she said softly. “I raised the ice when the _Lady Nelson_ sank but we were out there for days and…”

            Killian’s shoulders fell and he shut his eyes as Emma spoke.

            “It’s a miracle that you lasted out there for as long as you did. I’m sure you did everything you could.”

            Sitting back down, he rested his elbows on his knees, knowing that he had to find it in him to be diplomatic with his next query.

            “Milady, forgive me, but if you were able to raise such a barrier with your magic —”

            “Why did I not do so earlier?”

            He pressed his lips together and nodded. The queen’s gaze fell down to her hands and all trace of ice disappeared from her skin.

            “I’ve asked myself the same thing. Magic is not as common on our side of the world as it is in the Enchanted Forest, though I’m sure a captain born in the Southern Isles knows that already. My control is… it’s better than it was,” she said haltingly. “But it’s not perfect. It took everything I had _not_ to use it when our ship was attacked. I was afraid that if it flared up, it would be my people who would get hurt in the crossfire. If Anna had been there then maybe…”

            “I’m sure she’s alright,” Emma said in the same warm, comforting tone he’d heard her mother use many times before. It was clear that they’d spoken of the missing princess while he’d been busy setting their return course.

            “I only hope that Kristoff is with her. The knights I was with were not able to tell me much.”

            Killian heaved a sigh, his whole body suddenly heavy. “You should rest some more, milady. Hans cannot reach you here, and we will arrive at Swanstone Castle in a few days’ time. Until then, my cabin is yours.”

            “I’m sure that my parents will help,” Emma added, rising from the bed. Killian stood as well, crossing the small space to open the door for her.

            “Thank you. Both of you. I’m so very sorry for all of this.”

            “There is nothing to apologize for. Hans’ actions are not your fault,” Emma said. Killian looked away and shut his eyes, wishing he could pretend that she was speaking only to the young queen.

            “One day he’s going to pay for everything that he’s done.”

* * *

            Killian gripped the ship’s wheel tightly, reluctant to go below deck and rest even though he’d been at the helm for twice the length of a normal shift. Hans’ return to their lives ate at him, and his mind was clouded with thoughts of his brother’s murder. Had Emma not been aboard, the temptation to continue on to Arendelle and deliver his former prince an overdue justice — consequences be damned — might have proven too great to resist.

            But he was a captain in the royal navy, and like his princess, he too had responsibilities to uphold. Bringing swift word of what had happened back to their majesties, for one, but far more important was keeping Emma away from the man who had taken everything else from him.

            Twice Hans had attempted to lie his way onto a throne, twice he had turned to murder when those lies had been exposed, and twice he had been sent back home — purportedly with his tail between his legs. And it had all been for naught. Killian tried hard to not think of Liam, but he couldn’t help but wonder if this might have all been avoided had he taken his vengeance when he’d had the chance.

            The mid-deck hatch opened and Emma climbed up, heading over to join him at the helm. The vice around his heart eased a little as Killian drank in the sight of her, her presence reminding him that he had chosen her love over filling his heart with darkness.

            “You should be resting,” she chided.

            Killian removed a hand from the wheel and tucked her into his side, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Which one of my men tattled on me? I’ll have them keelhauled at once.”

            His princess punched him lightly in the shoulder and he caught her hand in his to bring it to his lips.

            “Ah, a royal order, then,” he said, waggling his brows. “Do you think you can order me about so easily on my own ship, Your Highness? If I should be resting, then so should you.”

            “I know,” she muttered, her voice suddenly flat. “I tried.”

            He sighed and locked the wheel in place, leading her across the quarterdeck to the sternward bulwark. Emma wrapped her arms around him immediately and he held her close, his fingers tracing the path of the long braid she wore to keep her hair from getting tangled overnight.

            “Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped you,” she mumbled into his neck.

            Killian didn’t need to ask to know what she was referring to — he’d been wondering the same thing, after all.

            “No. No, you were right to.”

            “We should have kept him imprisoned in the Enchanted Forest, then.”

            “Perhaps,” he said, his hand moving beneath her hair to stroke her back. “But there’s no way we could have known he’d set his sights on Arendelle the way that he has. And they sent him home in chains same as we did back when Her Majesty’s magic was revealed.”

            “It’s not right. Nothing about it feels right.”

            “Aye,” he said, letting a sigh fill his body only for it to betray him and turn into a yawn. “It’s a right bloody mess.”

            Emma tilted her head up to look at him. “You really should rest, you know.”

            “I’m not sure it will do much good,” he admitted. “I fear I’m likely to run into the same problem you did and find sleep to be elusive.”

            She unwound herself from his arms and took his hand in hers, motioning with the other for the helmsman to come up and replace him. Killian shook his head as he passed along the necessary course information. _Gods, but she really did run his ship_.

            “Just sit with me then,” she said, leading him below deck. Killian silently followed her down to the empty galley and settled next to her on one of the benches. She adjusted them so that his right arm was around her, her head resting on his shoulder.

            He leaned his head back against the wall, shut his eyes, and waited but true to his prediction sleep was not ready to claim him. And if her shifting and frustrated huffs were any indication, nor was it willing to come for Emma.

            Perhaps it was waiting for one of them to finally voice the thing that loomed over their heads.

            “With her sister missing, she’s going to want to go back,” he murmured softly.

            His princess lifted her head, sitting up a little to look at him in the dark and he let his arm fall from around her shoulders. “I know.”

            “If your parents grant it, I intend to go with her.”

            “I know,” she repeated, a sad smile gracing her lips.

            Killian kissed her softly in reassurance, wishing her could erase her unease. “I’ll come back. I promise,” he whispered, giving her the same vow he made every time he left.

            Emma nodded but she shut her eyes and wrapped herself around his arm, cuddling close as she hid her face in his shoulder. “I know,” she said, her reply muffled by his jacket. “It just feels different this time.”

* * *

            Sleep came a little easier after that first night. Emma and Madelyn spent much of their time with the queen, keeping her distracted and entertained and often pulling his men into their card games. Killian pretended to complain about them stealing his sailors, but he was generally content to let them have at it in their leisure time. His princess was a shrewd card player, and seemed determined to teach her tricks to the two ladies. The three of them often teamed up against his crew, although Queen Elsa was hesitant to call a man’s bluff. Watching them, he got the impression that apart from time with her sister, their guest hadn’t had much time to spend in leisure. His princess was persistent, however, and gradually the queen started to come out of her shell.

            They didn’t talk much more about Hans. It seemed an unspoken agreement between the three of them that there was little point in further discussions until they reached port. Though he’d never voice it for fear of insulting her — gods knew he’d done enough of that when she’d first come aboard — Killian hoped that by not bringing up the subject the queen would be better able to remain in control of her magic. An upset Queen Elsa could be a dangerous guest.

            The winds were strong and favourable to them, and they made it back to the coast and through the Gordian Canal in good time. Killian pushed the _Swan’s Flight_ as fast as she could safely go, and within three days they had arrived back to Emma’s kingdom. It was nearing dusk, so he sent a man to procure appropriate transport as soon as they docked, leaving his lieutenant to deal with the port authority in favour of escorting Emma, Queen Elsa, and Lady Madelyn up to the royal castle.

            They were expected. Sir Lancelot met them at the gate and Emma’s lady in waiting left them for the comfort of her own quarters. The knight captain led them up to one of the royal receiving rooms where Queen Snow and King James waited for them. Before Killian could even so much as bow in greeting, Queen Elsa sank to the floor before them in the middle of the plush carpet.

            “Your Majesties, I am —”

            “Queen Elsa of Arendelle,” Queen Snow said, raising a hand to interrupt. “Please, we are all friends here. Come and sit with us and tell us all that’s happened.”

            Killian stayed standing by the door, his hands clasped behind his back, as Elsa rose and took the seat his queen had indicated. Next to him, Emma stood strangely silent, making no move to join Elsa on the divan.

            He wasn’t the only one to notice her curious behaviour.

            “Emma, will you be joining us?” her father asked, turning back to address them.

            “I…” his princess stopped and shook her head. “I’m feeling a little tired, if that’s alright.”            “Of course,” the king replied. “Captain Jones, thank you for bringing our daughter home and our guest safely to us. If we could ask one further service, to escort the princess to her rooms?”

            He inclined his head. “It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty.”

            “We’ll speak to both of you tomorrow. For tonight, focus only on a good night’s rest.”

            Emma went over and kissed each of her parents on the cheek before allowing him to open the door for her. As they slipped out into the hall, she accepted his arm but kept quiet, her eyes averted as they walked.

            Killian couldn’t explain it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was suddenly troubling her had to do with him.

            “Love, have I said or done something to offend you?” he asked, finally breaking the silence as they stopped in front of the door to her royal suite.

            Emma’s already worried face fell at his question. “No. No, it’s not you. I only…” She paused and licked her lips, as if the motion could call the right words to them.

            “Now that we’re back, I don’t have to be the host anymore, and it will up to my parents to decide what to do about Hans. I just wish that I could be a part of it, somehow. That I didn’t have to be so useless.”

            Killian smiled gently in understanding and tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “My love, you could never be useless. You are the one who found Elsa, you are the only reason why we have any knowledge of what Hans has done. Any decision, any action taken against him is owing entirely to you.”

            “And now I get to stay here and watch as you leave to depose him.”

            He kissed her softly, resting his forehead against hers as he pulled away. “You don’t know that’s what’s going to happen,” he sighed.

            “Yes, I do. You know it too.”

            Emma stepped back, crossing an arm over her chest as she opened the door. “Goodnight, Killian.”

            “Goodnight,” he replied. Killian stayed in place after the door latched shut behind her, his heart heavy. He waited until he could no longer hear her moving around before finally heading across the castle to his own quarters.

            It would be another two days before confirmation came from her parents. Two days filled with council meetings and crew meetings and keeping the _Swan’s Flight_ ready at a moment’s notice. At night, Emma snuck into his room using the glamour charm, her kisses desperate no matter how he tried to slow her down, to reassure her that they didn’t have to do everything, that they had _time_.

            (He wouldn’t propose to her, not now. Not when she was so clearly afraid of losing him. But if her gut feeling was right, if he truly was about to sail straight into the third and final thread of her curse… he couldn’t deny he wished they’d been wed already.)

            When the decision came, it was shared with them over dinner. Killian and Queen Elsa were invited to dine with the royal family and as they all waited for dessert to be served, Emma’s mother informed the table that the kingdom couldn’t afford to declare war against Hans and his allies in the islands. Queen Elsa, it seemed, had already declined their offer of refuge and intended to return to Arendelle. If he wished it, Killian would be allowed to go with her in hopes of staging another coup and restoring the true monarchy to the throne.

            From the corner of his eye, Killian could see Emma’s hands trembling on her lap. He reached over to cover them with his own before answering.

            “It would be my honour, Your Majesties.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: My grandfather was a captain in the merchant marine in WWII and his ship was the Lady Nelson. It made over 30 crossings of the Atlantic after being torpedoed by a u-boat in St. Lucia, repaired, and converted into Canada’s first hospital ship. I really hate naming things, so I figured it was a good pick for the ship that takes Elsa to safety.


	3. Making Arrangements

            Emma left the council chambers and turned the corner, sagging against the nearest wall and pressing a hand to her stomach as though that might be enough to soothe her unease. She was glad that Killian hadn’t been called to the council meeting, though she knew that his presence would be required going forward. For now, it was bad enough that she had to sit there while her parents and their advisors debated the merits of sending her captain on a mission that she knew in her bones he would not return from. She didn’t need him there on top of it, silently trying to reassure her the way that he always did.

            She had faith in him, but every promise had its limit.

            She needed air. Pushing herself off the wall, she headed in the direction of the castle gardens. While the extensive, manicured grounds of the Summer Palace were famed for their beauty, the more modest royal gardens at Swanstone had long been her personal favourite. They were more wild — more reflective of the forest beyond that she’d been kept from exploring as she’d gotten older. She knew every hidden nook and cranny; knew which trees were best for climbing, and which plants flowered at which time. She and Killian spent a lot of time in the gardens whenever he was on shore leave and she’d taught him each of her favourite places.

            Emma wondered if they would still be her favourites after she had lost him, or if the memories of the hours they had whiled away there would only bring her sadness.

            She took her time wandering down the various shaded paths. It was a month into summer, and in previous years the castle would have already packed up and gone to the Summer Palace to escape the heat. Her parents had delayed the move in order to see her off, and she knew they were fortunate that everyone was still here when they’d returned with Elsa. The palace built for her grandmother wasn’t on the coast, and it would have cost them an extra day or two to make the trip north.

            The tree-lined path she was on opened up to a fountain where personifications of different ideals — honour, love, abundance, and so on — rose up out of the water. Emma was about to take her tour around it and head back up to the castle when she noticed Queen Elsa sitting on a bench on the western side, a tiny snowman resting in her cupped hands.

            Emma had come to genuinely like Elsa from the time they spent together on the ship but she did wish that their meeting had been under the happier circumstances they had originally planned.

            “It truly is amazing, what you can do,” she said, approaching the bench and trying not to startle her. “May I join you?”

            “Of course,” Elsa replied, shifting over slightly to make room.

            Emma sat down next to her and leaned forward to get a closer look at the magical snowman.

            “Anna and I used to make snowmen together when we were little,” Elsa explained. “Back before my parents decided that my powers were something to be kept secret.”

            Emma frowned. “Secrets seem to be a habit among parents.”

            The young queen shook her head. “There had been an accident. Anna might have died. They did what they thought was best at the time.” The snowman disappeared and she folded her hands in her lap. “Your parents are very kind,” she said, changing the subject.

            “They are,” Emma agreed. “Though sometimes I wish they had given me a sister of my own.”

            Elsa giggled. “Anna and I could always take you in.”

            “Like my parents offered to for you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

            The smile slipped from the queen’s face and she glanced away. “They did offer me asylum last night, yes.”

            “You turned them down, didn’t you?”

            She nodded. “Even if Anna were here with me… I can’t abandon my people, and Hans cannot be left alone to rule. A crown is only the gatekeeper to his ambition.”

            Emma sighed and leaned back against the bench. “I know. The council is debating what actions to take against him, but they all agree that he will lead the realm into chaos if left unchecked.”

            “Do they think he might attack you here?”

            “It’s a possibility,” she admitted. “We’re far away, and it would be costly, but he does not strike me as one who would forgive a grudge.”

            “War is always costly,” the queen agreed. “I do not know how he was able to take Arendelle so quickly, but I will pray that whatever power he has at his disposal is not turned upon you and your kingdom.”

            _Her, her kingdom, her people, her sailor…_

            “I pray for the same every day,” Emma said quietly.

* * *

 

             There were more meetings in the afternoon, ones attended by both Killian and Elsa. Emma spent hours listening as various potential strikes were debated. They had all but discarded an official declaration of war in an attempt to limit civilian casualties and preferred trying to take Hans by surprise just as he had taken Arendelle. And while the ultimate decision still lay with her parents, every time Killian spoke Emma could hear Elsa’s words repeating back to her.

            _War is costly_.

            It would be selfish to demand that her captain stay safe at home while others went off to fight his brother’s murderer. The pegasus sail was crucial to the plans taking shape and he was the most qualified to use it. Nor could she deny him his personal stake in the matter. She had promised him justice for Liam before and been unable to deliver — if she refused it to him now he might never forgive her.

            But she _wanted_ to refuse it. Each time that he set sail and returned the last piece of her curse was held at bay a little longer. But it was different this time, she knew it. Could feel it in her blood the way she had when Lord Cassidy betrayed her trust, the way she had in the moments before Hans fired the _Nautica’s_ cannons at his own kingdom’s ship. Her mother had always taught her to hold on to hope but once Killian left with Elsa it could be months before she knew the outcome. Emma simply wasn’t sure if her heart would be able handle it.

            She ate dinner with her parents at night but spoke little and excused herself as soon as the meal was finished. Neither of them questioned her on it; she’d told them how she felt about the curse before the first council meeting that morning. But being back in her rooms made her no less anxious, and she paced endlessly as she tried to sort through her tumult of thoughts and emotions.

            She wished she’d said yes.

            More than anything, when he’d proposed the year before, she wished she’d been brave enough to say yes. Emma had made a lot of strides in the years since she’d found out about her curse, had often thought herself determined to not let it affect her life. But in that moment, with Killian one knee and the deck of the _Swan’s Flight_ aglow with candles, she had been a coward. Too afraid that somehow making their love official would also put it at risk.

            She knew that her decision had hurt him, could read it all over his face as he swallowed thickly and stood back up, the sad smile he’d given her as she’d tried to explain. Things had been awkward between them for months afterward, and while she knew he kept the ring on him at all times, he wouldn’t ask again until he thought she was ready.

            She wasn’t ready. But she wasn’t ready to lose him either.

            On impulse, she took the glamour charm from the drawer of her vanity and slipped it around her neck, pulling on a robe to hide the fact that she was dressed in only her nightgown. It wasn’t the first time she had used the disguise to sneak across the castle at night, but she moved quickly nonetheless.

            (Killian’s rooms were located far from the royal suites, but that hadn’t stopped her father from catching her once when she’d snuck out just before dawn. He had chosen to pretend he hadn’t seen her, but it had led to an embarrassing conversation with her mother later that she had no desire to repeat.)

            She made sure the hall was empty before knocking — it was well known that Captain Jones was courting the princess, and would be unseemly for another woman to visit his rooms late at night. When he opened it, he immediately let out a deep sigh and she could see how the sad resignation settled in his shoulders before he let her in, checking the hall himself as he closed the door behind her.

            “Swan.”

            It wouldn’t do. She didn’t want sad eyes and comforting words that would only make her feel worse. She wanted _him_.

            He’d barely turned around before she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, knowing that he would always match her fervour. True to form, he met her eagerly and together they stumbled across the reception room until she’d nearly maneuvered them to his bedroom. She grunted as her back hit the wall and fisted both hands in his shirt to pull him closer.

            “Swan,” he breathed, pulling back when she tried to chase his lips with hers. He still called her that when she was wearing the glamour, even if they were alone. Like her identity was their little secret.

            Emma shut her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall as she gave in. Killian snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her close and holding her tight as his other arm came up around her shoulders.

            “I know you’re worried, love,” he murmured into her neck.

            She clung on to him like a lifeline, clutching the material of his sleep shirt tightly. “Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay,” she begged, the tears finally coming. “I can’t hear any more of it.”

            He pressed a kiss to her temple, then another one as he brushed the salty tracks away with the pad of his thumb. “Can I tell you that I love you? And that I will always fight to get home to you?”

            Emma took a shaky breath before she nodded. Killian gave her her favourite soft smile and kissed her gently. “I am yours,” he promised. “Everything I have, and everything I am. Always.”

            “I’m yours too,” she whispered, bringing both of her palms to rest on his chest. She stood up on her toes to kiss him again, slower this time, though even without her meaning to it turned just as heated as before. Before long her robe started to slip from her shoulders, his hands burned through her nightgown, and they were pressed together from the knee up. When her captain broke the kiss to trail a line down her neck she gasped and arched into him.

            “Killian, I want — I need —”

            He groaned and pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers. “Love, as much as I want you, I’d rather that our first time not be with you in tears.”

            “I’m going to lose you, Killian. I know it. If I’m yours, then let me be. Just once.”

            He kissed her again but pulled away when she tried to deepen it. “You know the queen’s curse, but _I_ know that it won’t be the end of us. We have time still, Emma. Time to do it right.”

            Stepping back, he took her hand and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it. “Come sleep with me, love. Let me hold you for a bit.”

            Emma reluctantly laced her fingers with his, fixing her robe with her free hand. Killian smiled reassuringly and led her into his bedroom.

            She had slept in bed with him on more than one occasion — it was something of a tradition his first night back on land — but this time she put extra effort into memorizing how it felt to have him hold her close, his arm wrapped around her middle and his breath warm on the back of her neck. Emma held onto him just as tightly, and it felt like hours before sleep finally pulled her under.

* * *

            There were more council meetings the next day, but Emma asked to not be made part of them. Her parents agreed readily enough. She knew that since she’d told them of the curse’s involvement they expected her to spend her time at the docks with Killian as he ensured that the _Swan’s Flight_ would be ready at a moment’s notice.

            But Emma couldn’t bring herself to visit the ship. Not two weeks ago they’d been setting sail for Arendelle and she was finally, after years of dreaming about it, going to see lands beyond the Enchanted Forest. She’d have been attending a royal wedding, not going off on some far flung adventure, but that had hardly mattered. She was supposed to be sailing the ocean with Killian, something they’d spoken of for years... until they’d come across the ice, and Elsa, and the stone in her gut that told her the curse was about to play its hand.

            She didn’t think she could bear to watch the _Swan’s Flight_ be readied, fearing as she did what it would be sailing into.

            Emma went to the yards instead, practicing her sparring until her limbs were sore. It cleared her mind for a little while, until she went back inside and was told that her parents wanted to see her before dinner.

            She wasn’t surprised when they told her of their plans to help Elsa re-take her throne. The way the council meetings had gone the day before, it had seemed as though the decision had been all but made already. Killian was a good captain and a good fighter, and his crew was specially trained for these sorts of missions. If anyone could deal with Hans once and for all it would be him.

            That didn’t mean she had to like it.

            For the second night in a row she was silent through much of dinner, speaking only when courtesy demanded it. If anyone noticed, they didn’t seem to mind. Or at least, they didn’t feel the need to comment on it. Her parents and Queen Elsa handled much of the conversation like the practiced heads of state that they were and while Killian kept trying to catch her eye next to her, Emma looked away quickly every time he did. She’d been trying hard to keep everything together when all she wanted to do was scream — she wasn’t about to break now.

            When her mother finally shared the decision, Killian reached over and covered her hands with his own. Emma kept her back ramrod straight and her eyes fixed on the wall across the room. Her whole body felt like it was made of pins and needles, and she was certain that her skin was hot to the touch. As her captain affirmed his support, the candles on the table started to flicker and she took a deep breath, as if the sputtering flames were connected somehow to her nerves.

            Later, after she had hastily excused herself from dinner, wishing Elsa good luck and promising Killian that she’d see him later, Emma stood on her balcony with her palms pressed flat against the cool stone balustrade. For so long she’d stood there and looked out at the seaway, imagining the ocean beyond and wondering if it were possible to run away from her fate. Her mother had told her of Regina’s curse on a similar night years ago and the words were still seared into her mind — love betrayed, love coveted, love lost. After moping for nearly a year she’d put herself back together and tried hard not to let it define her, fought to keep her heart open to love despite knowing the costs.

            She couldn’t explain _how_ she knew that the curse was nearing its final act, but she had no cause to doubt the feeling. Killian had sailed away many times, on assignments of varying length and degrees of danger, and never before had she felt so certain that he would not come back to her.

            Emma took a deep breath, suddenly clear on what she had to do. For years she had fought against the curse, even knowing that it would not relinquish its hold until it was done with her. Sometimes she had failed, like when fear had caused her to turn down Killian’s proposal, but she still _tried_. She was not about to stop now. Could not afford to, not with how much was at stake.

            If Killian would not come back to her, she would have to go with him.

            Emma closed her eyes and gathered her determination, knowing that she at least had to attempt to gain her parents’ blessing. If she left without telling them they would know once she was discovered missing, but it would be better for everyone if they could cover for her during her absence. They called her in immediately when she knocked on the door, and Emma had barely closed it behind her before the words were out of her mouth.

            “I have to go with him.”

            The king and queen exchanged a look that said they were not surprised and Emma waited with bated breath for one of them to say something in regards to her declaration.

            Finally, her father sighed. “We’d thought you’d decide as much. The arrangements have already been made.”

            “I — Wait, what?”

            Her mother smirked and motioned for her to sit next to her, which Emma did despite still being confused as to what was happening.

            “Frankly, we’re surprised that it took this long,” she said. “Or is it that you only just decided to tell us you were going?”

            She blinked as she tried to take in their casual acceptance of her proposition. “I definitely thought I’d have to fight harder for it. What — what are the arrangements?”

            “You’ll take the place of the female guard we’ve planned to have accompany Queen Elsa. The staff will be told that you’re visiting with Princess Melody while Captain Jones is away so you can see him sooner when he returns.”

            Emma bit her lip as she worked it over in her mind. “Does Killian know?”

            The queen shook her head. “We didn’t want you to feel as though you had to go,” she explained. “If you chose to stay home, we’d support that too.”

            “Emma,” her father started, “I know that we didn’t tell you about the curse when you were young, and maybe that was the wrong decision, but we are so proud that you and Killian have found each other despite Regina’s efforts. You love him, and if there’s one thing we know about love, it’s that it must be fought for.”

            She nodded, suddenly unable to keep from crying for the second night in a row as a rush of gratitude and affection filled her chest.

            Immediately she was wrapped in a warm hug and Emma rocked into it, tucking her chin onto her mother’s shoulder.

            “Be safe out there,” she whispered, running her fingers over Emma’s hair. “And come home.”

            “I will,” she promised. “We both will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this one — I know there were a couple of you wondering why Emma and Killian weren’t married yet. The truth is that she was a chickenshit. Much like our own Emma in the s4 finale and it was planned way before that but I love that I got to parallel it to canon because enjoy that so. damn. much. Like some things will always happen, in some form or another, between these two.


	4. Underway

            Killian squinted in the morning light as the royal carriage and its dozen knight escort made its way to the ship, hoping to catch a glimpse of Emma. He hadn’t seen her since she’d excused herself from dinner and he was anxious to know that she’d be all right in his absence. He’d resisted going to bed the night before in spite of the need to be at the docks before dawn, hoping that she might visit his chambers again, that more time together might set her heart at ease. But his princess had stuck to her own rooms at night and it was with an uneasy heart that he’d finally let sleep claim him.

            He just needed to know that she wouldn’t give up on them, that she would try and hold onto hope in spite of the Evil Queen’s curse. He’d promised to do everything in his power to return to her and he had no intention of letting her down.

            The royal party came to a stop and Killian straightened as the carriage door opened and King James stepped out. He said something to the passenger still inside the horse-drawn vehicle — Queen Elsa, he assumed — then turned, leaving the door open and brushing his hands off as he walked up. Killian saluted smartly and tried to lock away his disappointment that Emma had not come to see him off, hoping that it wouldn’t show on his face.

            She always came, no matter how strained matters sometimes were between them — his first assignment after she’d turned down his proposal coming to mind. But even then she’d come down to the docks to wish him well. She always did.

            Until now, apparently.

            “Captain Jones!” the king greeted, “I trust all is well and ready?”

            “Aye, Your Majesty. The _Swan’s Flight_ will sail with the tide.”

            “And quarters are prepared for your guest and her guard?”

            Killian frowned at the question. It was unusual for Emma’s father to question his level of preparation. “Aye, sir.”

            King James sighed and glanced over at the carriage behind him. When he turned back to Killian his face was drawn and serious. “The future of our kingdom hangs on this mission, Jones,” he said quietly, clasping a hand to his shoulder. “And I want every single one of you to come back alive.”

            “Every person under my command will do their very best to comply, I give you my word.”

            “And you as well?”

            He smiled sadly at the question, hearing Emma’s words through her father’s voice. “Aye.”

            The king nodded and stepped back, raising a hand to signal the carriage. The footman hopped down from his seat to assist and Killian stared in growing horror as Emma followed Queen Elsa out of the carriage. His princess was not dressed for a simple visit to see him off, however. She wore a pair of breeches paired with a white blouse and a blue vest which she had belted at the waist. Her hair was pulled back, there was a sword at her hip, and around her neck hung the familiar charm that told him no one else save her father saw exactly what he was seeing.

            “No,” he breathed, shaking his head in disbelief.

            “It was her decision to make,” the king said quietly, watching the two women approach.

            “And you allowed it?” he hissed.

            Next to him, Emma’s father looked down briefly. “Every single one of you back alive,” he repeated finally. “No exceptions.”

            Killian ground his teeth together and turned to beckon his lieutenant over just as the two women came to a stop in front of him.

            “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing to Elsa and putting a forced friendliness into his voice. “Welcome back aboard the _Swan’s Flight_. If you don’t mind, I will have Lieutenant Stevens show you to your quarters. There are a few matters of procedure that I need to discuss with the Lady…”

            “Swan,” Emma supplied and he smiled tightly in response.

            “With Lady Swan.”

            Queen Elsa nodded. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Captain.”

            His lieutenant offered an arm, which the queen declined, and the two of them headed down the dock towards the gangplank. King James gave he and the princess a significant look before following, allowing them some privacy.

            Killian watched them all go, refusing to turn his head and look at Emma as she came to stand beside him.

            “You can’t be serious about this,” he growled once he was certain that no one else was within earshot.

            Emma turned and met his eyes determinedly. “I am absolutely serious. The king told you —”

            “Sod what the king told me!” he interrupted, suddenly furious. “I’m the captain, I make the rules aboard my ship!”

            “This is personal for me too!” she shouted back at him. Their raised voices drew the attention of his crew and the dock workers and Emma huffed out a breath.

            “This is personal for me too,” she repeated, quieter but no less firm. “You cannot stop me from coming.”

            “That man tried to kill you. I will not lose another person I love to his machinations.”

            _Lady Swan_ only raised her chin defiantly. “Nor will I.”

            He stared at her for a long moment — her green eyes fierce and filled with fire — before finally shaking his head. “You’ll guard Queen Elsa on the ship, but once we reach Arendelle you’ll stay on board where it’s safe.”

            “That’s not —”

            “I swear to all the gods, Emma, you will do as I say or I will reveal your true identity for everyone to know.”

            His princess opened her mouth to protest only to clamp it shut, her hand reaching for the glamour charm out of habit. Killian swallowed thickly but knew he could neither take back what he’d said nor offer her false apologies. Instead he cleared his throat and offered his arm.

            “Come,” he said, trying to at least _sound_ contrite for her sake. “We should embark. There will be time in the coming weeks to sort everything out.”

            Emma glanced from his arm up to his face and held his gaze for what felt like eons before finally accepting and linking their arms together.

* * *

            The mood on board the _Swan’s Flight_ was a far cry from when they’d first set off for Arendelle ten days prior. Each officer and crew member knew the purpose of their mission and all the risks that it required. Killian drove them hard and wasted no opportunity to speed their journey, using the pegasus sail to cross over the Isthmus of Gordias rather than possibly losing half a day to canal congestion as they had on their voyage back.

            Emma stayed cross with him. While he often caught her watching him — and indeed was more than guilty of that himself whenever she was on deck — each time he attempted to speak with her privately their conversation followed the same pattern. He would argue in favour of her safety, she would counter with protecting him from the curse, and they would end in a stalemate once more. Most nights Killian was left wanting to pull his hair out, just wishing that she could understand his position.

            He would do anything to keep her safe. If she truly wanted to protect him, she wouldn’t force herself into a position where he may have to risk his life to save hers.

            He banned both she and Queen Elsa from the deck once they reached the mist despite deciding to raise the pegasus sail and fly over the expanse of foggy ocean. Their royal guest hadn’t been certain of her ability to completely melt the ice and while it was ostensibly safer than risking collision with an iceberg, flying only put him more on edge. He spent longer periods than normal on deck, watching the sky for any signs of ill weather. Thankfully, his princess seemed to have decided to put their quarrel aside for the time being, and he was given at least a bit of a reprieve from arguing with her about the Arendelle mission.

            That did not mean that he was spared from heated discussions on the matter altogether, however. Indeed, as the _Swan’s Flight_ passed over the last of the mist and descended to the sea once more their focus shifted to carving out a plan that would allow them to usurp the usurper.

            It was crucial that they keep the element of surprise on their side. Without knowing how Hans had infiltrated and taken the castle so swiftly they could not afford for their own plan to go anything but perfectly. Elsa gave them as much detail as she could regarding the layout of the city and castle and Killian had his own maps of the area to supplement her limited knowledge of the local geography.

            Hans’ first step after the coup would have been to consolidate his grip on power. While he could count on the island kingdoms for support, his rule would be little more than an occupation of territory unless he could sway the loyalty of whatever remained of Arendelle’s knights. The first time he’d attempted to take the throne, he’d tried to do so with a hasty marriage to Princess Anna and if the queen’s younger sister had failed to escape they would doubtlessly be facing a similar scenario this time as well. Elsa was desperate to know if her sister was alright, but Hans would expect her to attempt a rescue if he had even the slightest suspicion that she had survived the sinking of the _Lady Nelson_.

            They had debated how best to use her magic for days but ultimately it came down to practicalities. While a storm might slow their enemies, it would be too unpredictable and they couldn’t afford for it to also hamper their own assault. Hans wasn’t stupid, he would be prepared for Queen Elsa and her magic.

            Their best advantage was the pegasus sail. While he might expect Elsa to mount an attempt at regaining the throne, he had no way of knowing that it’d be Killian who would bring her. Arendelle’s location meant that it was naturally well protected, but by flying around the far side of the mountains they could launch a strike from the rear. A two-pronged attack — with the queen’s magic drawing both friendly and enemy attention to herself while Killian’s team went after Hans — was their best chance at success.

            Which left only the matter of Emma. Every man on board his ship knew that “Lady Swan” had been sent by the king to both accompany and protect Queen Elsa. They were only a day away from the continent yet he still hadn’t given assignments to any of his men, knowing that it would mean giving one to Emma as well, for good or for ill. They hadn’t spoken of it the last few days, but as Arendelle drew closer she’d taken to discretely visiting him at night in his cabin.

            They hadn’t spoken of the curse either.

            Killian sighed and rested his elbow on the bulwark, staring out at the horizon. His crew would expect Emma to go with Elsa during their attack, Emma would want to go with him, and he wanted her to stay onboard where it would be safer.

            How her parents could have agreed to this continued to boggle him.

            “You look troubled, Captain.”

            Killian turned to see Queen Elsa standing at the top of the steps to the quarterdeck, her gloved hands folded together carefully.

            He gave a small smile as she walked over to join him. “There is much to be troubled about, milady.”

            The queen hummed and turned to look out at the water. “You love her, don’t you?” she asked softly.

            “I’m sorry?”

            “Lady Swan. I’m not blind, Captain. I thought at first it was your brother that she cared for, that she was also looking to avenge his death, but I’ve seen how you two look at each other. You love her and she, you.”

            Killian stared at her, mouth agape, as he processed her words. Had they truly been so obvious?

            “I am courting Princess Emma,” he said finally, struggling to choose his words. “And I love _her_.”

            “I never said you didn’t,” she replied easily, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “I imagine it’s all terribly complicated. I also imagine that Princess Emma is aware, or has at least surmised as much, and that that is why she sent the Lady Swan with you on this mission.”

            “You think she’s trying to off the competition?” he deflected, trying to hide his panic behind a poor joke. But Elsa was having none of it.

            “No. I think she knows that the best way to ensure the safety of the man she loves is to send someone to protect him who feels the same way.”

            He shook his head, still not quite believing that he was having this conversation. “King James and Queen Snow White assigned her on this mission to accompany and protect _you_. The princess had nothing to do with it.”

            “Officially. But we both know better and _you_ make the decision on where she goes when we take the castle.”

            Killian shut his eyes against the reminder. “There is no good choice,” he muttered, turning back and resting his arms against the bulwark.

            “Perhaps you should leave it up to her, then. I promise not to be offended when she chooses as we both know she will.”

* * *

            Killian paced his cabin restlessly. They’d drawn within sight of the Arendelle coast a little while ago and would soon have to raise the pegasus sail in order to circle ‘round the mountains and avoid detection. Before that though, he needed to speak with Emma. He’d put it off for far too long already.

            There was a knock at the door and he crossed the floor to open it, stepping aside to let her in.

            “Hello, love,” he said, closing the door behind her.

            “Hello,” she murmured, keeping her eyes averted as she fidgeted a little.

            The nerves were unlike her, but they both knew why he had asked to speak to her in private. Killian moved to face her, lifting her hand to his lips for a kiss before leading her over to the table. He ran his thumb over her knuckles once before letting go, pulling a chair out for her to sit.

            “Killian…” she started, but he shook his head, steeling himself as he took the seat across from her.

            “Please, just let me speak.”

            Emma pressed her lips together but nodded and he reached for her hands, lacing their fingers together.

            “I love you,” he started. “I love you more than I could have ever thought possible. And I would give _anything_ to make sure that you are happy and safe.”

            “I feel the same,” she whispered.

            “I know. And I understand why you came, Emma. Truly, I do. But the greatest risk to my life is if I am worried for yours. This is a dangerous mission. I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to protect you.”

            “I can take care of myself,” she argued, though — he thanked the gods — with little heat.

            “Aye, you can hold your own with a blade. But you’ve never had to truly fight before, love. It’s different.”

            “I can’t just sit around and hope that everything will work out, Killian. I have to at least _try_. You would do the same if you were me.”

            “I would. Which is why I’m leaving the choice up to you.”

            “You are?”

            He nodded. “It was Elsa’s suggestion, actually. She’s noticed how we feel about each other and apparently thinks that we’re involved in some sort of torrid love triangle.”

            His princess let out a tiny snort of amusement at that and he smiled before continuing his plea. “Emma, I will fight with everything I have to come back to you, I promise you that. But if I’m not able to…” he trailed off, frowning at the sudden sadness in her eyes.

            “I just want you to be safe,” he said. “Come with me, or go with Elsa, or stay on the ship it’s up to you. But please, love, at least think about it.”

            There was a shout from up on deck and Killian stood, pulling his hands from hers even as she opened her mouth to protest.

            “We have to raise the pegasus sail if we’re going to get high enough in time,” he explained. “I’d ask you to stay below deck — it could be rough once we get up in the mountains.”

            “Okay,” she said and the reluctance in her voice made him wish that he didn’t have to go, that he could stay and hold her and whisper more promises in her ear. But she couldn’t make her decision with him around and none of his reassurances had worked before.

            Emma stopped him before he reached the steps, pushing out of her chair and turning him around with a hand on his arm. Killian barely had the chance to suck in a breath before she kissed him, hard and wanting, her hands fisted in his jacket to keep him close.

            “I love you,” she gasped, pulling away and giving him a small shake.

            Killian leaned his head down to hers, curling a stray lock of hair around his finger as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

            “And I, you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new update! I’m not gonna lie, I’m in love with Elsa thinking Killian and Emma are involved in a love triangle with Emma’s glamoured self. Killian’s chapters have been tough to write so far since they can mostly be summed up by “time passes.” But he’ll get his own stuff to do once they hit Arendelle and the upcoming Emma chapter is one that I’ve been looking forward to forever so hopefully the writing will go a bit quicker!


	5. Break Apart

            Emma watched the sea disappear from under them through the window in Killian’s cabin, leaning forwards so that she could look down until the _Swan’s Flight_ was as high as the clouds and only the sun bouncing off the waves told her that they were still over the water at all. She’d sailed the skies with Killian a number of times in the past few years but always under fair conditions that allowed her to be up on deck with him. Being in his cabin, she couldn’t help but think back to the first time they’d flown, when she’d fallen into the water and Killian had hoisted them up, setting her to dry off while he went after Hans without telling her. She’d gone after him then, when the second thread of her curse had unravelled and Liam had paid the ultimate price. She’d come all this way so she could go after him again… could she really do as he wished and stand by, letting the fate that the Evil Queen had forced on her play its hand unimpeded?

            If she lost him because she had done nothing she would never forgive herself. But Killian’s point was also true — her presence could push him into taking risks he might not otherwise. Could she still live with herself if she inadvertently caused his death?

            “My, my. Quite the predicament you’ve got.”

            Emma jumped at the giggling, unfamiliar voice. Spinning around, she reached for the blade at her hip but fumbled at the sight of the strange man standing between her and the door.

            “Who are you?” she demanded, fixing her grip on the hilt of her sword.

            “There’s no need to be hostile,” the man — if it was a man — said, waving his gold-flecked hand dismissively before dropping into a bow. “I am Rumplestiltskin.”

            “The Dark One,” Emma inferred. “I’ve heard of you. You were banished.”

            He hummed and wiggled his fingers at her. “Only from the Enchanted Forest, dearie. And I prefer to look at it as ‘I agreed to leave.’”

            “What do you want?” Growing up, she’d heard all of the stories about the Dark One; knew the unusual role he’d played in her parents’ courtship and how he had taught magic to Regina. She also knew better than to make any sort of deal with him, no matter what he offered.

            “Me? I don’t want anything. Well, nothing from you at least. I was merely curious — felt my magic approaching and thought I’d meet the princess whose parents both imprisoned me and set me free. I must say, you are definitely worth the detour.”

            Emma’s hand reached for her necklace, her stomach churning at the thought of him being able to sense the glamour, before she scowled and pulled it away. “Well, you’ve met me. Now leave.”

            The Dark One giggled gleefully and clapped his hands. “Oh, you’ve got fire! Wonderful! It’s been centuries since I haven’t been able to see the future of someone _interesting_.”

            She shook her head. “What are you talking about? My future is more set than anyone else’s. I’m—”

            “Cursed by destiny, yes,” he interrupted, hands flicking into a pose. “Personally, I would have gone a bit of a different route, but there’s no accounting for taste.” He frowned, one hand dropping as he regarded her. “Oh, don’t tell me you can’t feel it! Regina’s curse butting up against your own magic, the light struggling to defeat the dark?”

            Emma was growing more confused by the minute but knew she couldn’t let him trick her into a deal. “I don’t have magic,” she countered.

            “Of course you do! It may have been shackled by the curse, but it’s there. It’s what warns you, that feeling that you have whispering how you’re about to lose your poor, dear captain.”

            She stepped forward, hands balling into fists as fear and rage both surged within her. “What do you know? Tell me.”

            Rumplestiltskin smirked and gestured to the door behind him. “I thought you wanted me to leave.”

            “Is Killian going to die?” she asked, ignoring his taunt and pressing forward.

            “Die? Everyone dies. Except me.”

            “You know what I mean,” Emma spat out.

            He hummed, not bothered at all by her change in tone. “The future… normally it’s like a puzzle but with you I don’t even have the pieces. With the end of your curse approaching, it’s only a matter of time before your magic breaks free in a last ditch attempt to stop it. Whether you succeed or whether you’ll only hasten your love’s demise _that’s_ what remains to be seen. What do you think? Shall we make a bet on it?”

            “You’re mad,” she gaped, staring at him.

            “Quite. We could flip a coin if you prefer. Heads, he lives. Tails, he dies. Or perhaps we’ll split the difference and he’ll just suffer a minor loss of limb.”

            The callous indifference with which he spoke made Emma see red and she’d drawn her blade before she had the chance to think better of it, holding the point just inches from his throat. “This is someone’s life we’re talking about!”

            “I already told you that there’s no need to be hostile,” the Dark One sneered, flicking his wrist as if to swat away an insect. The sword flew from her grip and Emma should have been terrified but she was past caring, fury rising up in her at this… this demon who’d come seemingly just to mock her.

            “My curse is not some joke for your amusement,” she argued, voice rising to nearly a shout. “And I will not be tricked as you’ve done with so many others in the past. Leave. Now!”

            Her anger sparked, flashing out from her fingers and Rumplestiltskin stumbled back a step from the force of it, his face twisting into something manic and frightening as he righted himself.

            “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, dearie,” he cautioned, wagging his finger at her one final time before disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

* * *

            Bright sparks of light flew from her fingers like flint striking steel, ricocheting around the room. Emma couldn’t stop her hands from shaking and each time she tried it only seemed to make matters worse. Pressing her hands flat against the table in Killian’s quarters she tried to breathe, tried not to panic, but her palms seared the wood and she jerked away quickly, her handprints burned into the still-hissing wood.

            The Dark One had done this. Gave her magic just to see what would happen. Emma tore the glamour charm from her neck and threw it across the room, stumbling as the ship lurched beneath her. They were up in the mountains now; the rocky, snow-capped peaks seeming almost close enough to touch through the windows in Killian’s cabin. She had to get herself under control. Their attack on Hans would begin as soon as they circled the range and she couldn’t… she couldn’t risk…

            _She had magic_.

            Whether Rumplestiltskin had given it to her or merely awoken it as he’d said, she had it now. And that made her dangerous. When Elsa had lost control of her powers she’d plunged her whole kingdom into winter and nearly killed her sister. How was Emma supposed to protect Killian from Hans when she wasn’t even safe to be around?

            She couldn’t. She couldn’t keep him safe. This magic, this power was beyond her control and it would only make her lose him faster. She was going to _lose_ him. The last play in Regina’s twisted revenge making her think it would be Hans when really…

            She had to get away from him somehow.

            The ship rolled to the left and she tripped, throwing out her hands to stop her fall. Books and instruments fell from the shelf below the window and she wasn’t sure anymore what was her and what was the rough air of the mountains. There was shouting up on deck and buzzing in her ears and _she couldn’t stop it_.

            “Hello? Is everything alright in there?”

            Her head jerked up at Elsa’s voice and the ship lurched again, light flying from her hands. Emma crumpled to the floor and wedged herself into a corner between the bed and the wall, just wishing for it to end.

            Elsa knocked again. “Hello? I heard voices before and—”

            “Go away,” she called out, clapping a hand over her mouth when she realized that it was her voice and not the glamour’s that came from her throat.

            She waited anxiously to see what would happen, if Elsa would realize that “Lady Swan” did not sound quite like herself. The moment stretched on and she screwed her eyes shut tight, the ship leaning suddenly hard to the right.

            “I can see the light from under the door,” the queen of Arendelle said firmly. “I’m coming in.”

            The glamour charm was somewhere on the other side of the room, there was no way Emma would be able to find it in time. _Not that it matters anymore_ , she thought bitterly. Her parents had got it to try and protect her after she’d learned of the curse. Now the curse was ending, and the Dark One’s own magic had triggered it.

            Elsa struggled with the door as the _Swan’s Flight_ tried to right itself — she could hear Killian barking orders up on the deck. Finally getting inside, Elsa quickly shut the door behind her and leaned heavily against it to keep from falling over.

            The queen of Arendelle’s eyes went wide when they landed on her tucked into the corner.

            “ _Emma_?”

            She tried to huff in response but the sound came out breathy and panicked. “Not who you were expecting, I know,” she said weakly.

            Elsa stumbled forward, clutching onto the table as the ship hit another rough patch, her worried gaze darting to the window. “Emma, you have to stop this.”

            “I can’t,” she choked out, wincing as more light burst from her hands. “I can’t control what’s happening.”

            “You can,” Elsa insisted, trying to pick her way closer without falling down.

            The cabin was a mess; so different from the neat and ordered way that Killian always kept it. He would make a joke about it if he were with her, some comment about princesses always making a mess and never having to clean it up. Something in Emma broke at the thought that the ship might crash and he might never get to make fun of her again.

            “Emma, I know it’s frightening but you need to believe that you can do it. Think about Killian. Think about keeping him safe.”

            She would have laughed if her body could remember how. She shook her head instead. “I shouldn’t have come. I was wrong to think—”

            There was a loud crack and both of their heads snapped up. A scream pierced through the rest of the chaos and the brig started to drop from the sky like a rock. Elsa fell to the ground and tried to brace herself against something while Emma wedged herself even tighter into her corner. Her hands were still sending off light and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing it all to end.

            Bile rose up in her throat and she was certain that she would vomit before they finally hit the ground. The ship groaned in protest, the windows shattered, and they struck the mountain with a resounding crash. Then everything went silent.

* * *

            When Emma opened her eyes she was lying prone face-first in the snow. Pushing herself up in spite of the ringing in her ears, she was relieved to find herself relatively unharmed — her ears were ringing and she would bruise in a few places, but otherwise she had suffered only a couple scrapes and minor cuts from the broken glass. Judging by her distance from the ship, she must have been thrown through the fractured panes when they’d landed.

            Of greater concern was the fact that her hands were still crackling with magic. There was only a light breeze on the exposed mountainside, making it painfully obvious that the _Swan’s Flight_ hadn’t crashed because of any rough weather. She _had_ to figure out how to bring her magic under control. Such power may not be common among the non-fairy population but it wasn’t as scarce as it seemed to be in Arendelle and you didn’t see people in the Enchanted Forest going around wreaking havoc simply because they didn’t know how not to.

            She would find a way. But until then she wasn’t safe to be around — especially not Killian, who already had a death sentence hanging over his head thanks to her. The problem was that she was stuck in a foreign country whose current ruler wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. Hans had accused her of being a witch once before, and she knew what he had tried to do to Elsa when the latter’s magic had been unleashed. Emma couldn’t think of a worse place to be facing self-imposed exile.

            Still, and absurd though the though may be, she was strangely grateful to have been thrown from the ship when they landed. At least this way she had a bit of a head start before Killian could send out a search party for her. A head start which would be wasted if she didn’t get moving. Pushing herself to her feet, she allowed herself one long look at the _Swan’s Flight_ , took a single deep breath, and then forced herself to turn around and walk the other way.

            “Emma!”

            Elsa’s voice made her pivot and she winced as her head protested the quick motion.

            “Go back to the ship, Your Majesty. It’s not safe for you to be near me. Tell Killian that I’m okay, and that I’m sorry. They’ll need your help with Hans.”

            “All due respect,” the queen said, her voice thin but firm. “But I think I’ll decide for myself where it’s safe and where I need to be.”

            Emma grit her teeth and balled her hands into fists. She could feel the magic coursing through her, raising the hair on her arms, but she struggled to push it back down.

            “I can’t go back,” she said, her voice cracking. “His blood will be on my hands.”

            “Not even to make sure that he’s alright?” Elsa asked gently.

            “He’s alive,” she answered. She was certain of that much at least. She would have known if she’d lost him. “That’s enough.”

            “Emma, let me help,” Elsa urged, picking up the hem of her dress and catching up to her. “I know better than anyone what it’s like to have magic that you can’t control.”

            “It’s more than just that,” Emma muttered, unwilling to waste valuable time explaining the curse and the Dark One’s visit. She had no idea where she was going, only that she had to get out of sight and find shelter.

            “Because you had control and then lost it?”

            She shook her head. “I’ve never had control. I’ve never had _magic_.”

            “But… You were under a magic disguise, were you not?”

            Emma had to stop herself from reaching for the glamour that she no longer wore. “I had a charm, but someone else made it for me. I can’t… I just need to get away. I don’t want to put anyone in any more danger.”

            Elsa stopped walking and looked around, taking note of their surroundings. “We’re on the North Mountain; there are rock trolls in the valley below. Apart from me, they’re the only magical beings in Arendelle and they’re as old as the land itself. They may be able to help.”

            Emma hesitated, still wanting to refuse the queen’s help and go it alone. But she had no better plan, and Elsa probably wasn’t wrong when she’d said that she could understand better than most.

            “Please, Emma. I’ve been where you are. I know how frightening it is. But I pushed people away when I should have been letting them in. Don’t make the same mistake that I did.”

            She sighed, relenting. “Okay,” she said. “But we have to go quickly. I can’t risk being followed.”

            “I’ll make sure that we’re not,” Elsa promised, raising an arm.

            There was a cold swirl of magic and Emma gasped as it seemed to almost reverberate through her blood, making it hum and sending shivers down her spine. It was gone a moment later and then she was looking at the back of a short, disproportionately formed snowman, its oblong head taking up almost a third of its body. The otherworldly snow continued to fall, forming a curtain between them and Elsa’s creation.

            “With any luck, Olaf here will be a sign to let them know that we’re alright. The snow will follow behind us and cover our tracks.”

            Emma raised a brow at the snowman’s name, guessing that there was a story there but she didn’t question it. Elsa’s plan to hide their tracks was all well and good, but if they didn’t get out of sight soon Killian might simply be able to follow the unnatural squall straight to their destination.

            “Lead the way then,” she said, steeling herself for the trek.

            Elsa gave her what she supposed was intended to be an encouraging smile then picked up the hem of her skirt once more and started down the mountain. Emma didn’t let herself look back at the _Swan’s Flight_ a second time and she crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her still-sparking hands as they walked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been looking forward to writing this chapter for about a year, especially that first scene. Hopefully the wait has been worth it — I’m anxious to know what you all think!


	6. The Sign in the Snowman

            Killian studied the Arendelle coastline through his spyglass, eyes lingering on the towering mountains. With any luck, the wind would stay with them and aid their passage, though he’d learned a long time ago not to rely solely on fortune’s favour. It was why he pushed the ship and her crew to their limits during training — the Arendelle peaks may be unfamiliar, but they were not the first mountains the _Swan’s Flight_ would navigate.

            Tucking the instrument away, Killian set himself at the helm and gave the signal to his lieutenant. The call went up on deck and all hands jumped into action as the pegasus sail was raised on the foremast. Breathing in deep the sea air, he guided the ship as the winds lifted them higher, setting a course that would take them away from Hans’ naval patrols and above the fjord’s steep cliffs. He kept a steady altitude until they reached the first mountains then shouted the order to take the _Swan’s Flight_ higher still, climbing until they were almost halfway to the peaks, until the air started to thin and the previously warm summer breeze turned cold through his ears.

            If his estimates held true, it would take them about an hour to circle around the far side of the alpine range. The sun was out late at this time of the year, but he’d tried to time it so that it would be starting to slip behind the horizon when they began their descent. Queen Elsa would use her magic to descend first and attract the attention of the guards allowing his crew time to abseil to the ground and go after Hans.

            If only he knew where Emma would be.

            Killian pushed the thought away, refocusing on guiding the ship around the far slope of the imposing North Mountain. He’d made the decision to leave the choice up to her; he had to trust that she would take the right path.

            The ship pitched suddenly to the port side and he stumbled, losing his balance. Stevens was already shouting to the crew so Killian grabbed hold of the wheel again, trying to keep them away from the mountains.

            _The wind hasn’t changed_ , he thought wildly, trying to account for the sudden shift in flying conditions. The ship lurched forward under his feet then leaned hard to starboard and Killian spat out a curse, trying to keep a steady heading.

            “Check the rigging!” he ordered. “I want men up on each mast!”

            There had to be a problem with one of the sails, but he was damned if he could figure out which one. He’d sailed on the _Swan’s Flight_ for most of his naval career, and never had the brig behaved so erratically. He managed to fix their course, but the turbulence seemed to only be getting worse.

            They needed water. And quickly. They’d become stranded if he tried to set down over land and it would take a miracle to get the ship airborne again. But there was no space to turn around and even if there were, Killian wasn’t sure if it was a maneuver he’d want to attempt under such conditions. If there was an alpine lake or — better yet — a river that they could land on…

            They’d have to go higher, cross over the mountains and hope the air wouldn’t get too thin before they reached the next fjord.

            “Lieutenant!” he yelled over the wind.

            There was no other choice. The _Swan’s Flight_ would break apart if he didn’t do _something_ to get them to safety.

            Stevens staggered up to the quarterdeck, clutching the rail with both hands to keep from falling.

            “I’m taking us over the mountains. Check the charts and find out exactly how far away we are from water without changing tack. Then warn the queen and her guard. Go. Now!”

            His lieutenant was barely below decks before the wind kicked up again and it was all Killian could do to stay on his feet and hold their heading. Shouting out orders to the crew as they worked the lines, he braced himself against the helm, knowing that if there was one benefit to increasing their altitude it was that it might get them out of the rough air.

            No sooner had they begun their climb than the foremast cracked under the pressure. It teetered precariously over the starboard side for a heart-wrenching moment, then broke completely, taking the pegasus sail down with it.

            Sailors plastered themselves to the deck, holding on to anything they could find as the ship hurtled down from the sky. Knowing that the sooner they crashed the better, Killian did his best to turn them, hoping that the sails on the mainmast would catch wind and guide them down. The rocky slope of the North Mountain rushed up to meet them and the ship struck land hard, skidding across the slope until everything finally, mercifully, went still.

* * *

            His ears were ringing. Killian knew that there was shouting happening, it just sounded very far away compared to the insistent pounding that vibrated through his entire skull. His jacket was torn, he noted as he pulled himself up, and he had a few cuts and places he would bruise in by the next day but overall he seemed mostly unharmed.

            If only he could say the same for his ship.

            They’d landed in an open area at least, the expanse of rock only occasionally broken up by shrubs and stunted evergreens. And their position didn’t seem precarious. The slope of the mountain was fairly gentle at their altitude and they weren’t at risk of teetering over the edge of some cliff and plummeting once more to their deaths. But the foremast was broken clean in two and the pegasus sail blanketed most of the deck. Some of the crew were working at gathering it up and Killian left them to it in favour of picking his way across the deck and down to the officer’s cabin he’d given to Emma and Queen Elsa.

            There was magic behind their fall, of that he was certain. _Something_ had caused the _Swan’s Flight_ to crash. He’d sailed sea and sky in all manners of weather in the past and never before had the brig behaved so erratically — like there was some force other than the wind acting against them.

            He’d taken the Queen of Arendelle at her word that her magic wouldn’t pose a threat to their mission. Had been prepared to rely on it in order to draw Hans out and re-take the throne for her. If that decision had backfired...

            If Emma had been hurt...

            Neither one of them were in their shared quarters so he turned down the hall towards his own cabin where he’d left Emma before they’d taken flight. The door stuck when he tried to open it and he had to throw his body into it just to be able to squeeze through. The whole room looked like an explosion had gone off in it. A chair had been blocking the door, and the others were scattered about the cabin. The table was on its side, all of his books had fallen from the shelves, and every single one of the windows were shattered. He might have chalked it up to just the turbulence and the crash were the devastation not worse than anyplace else on the ship.

            There was some blood on the broken glass and Killian swore under his breath, turning in place to survey the room once more as if by some chance he’d stepped over a body on his way to inspect the window. But he already knew that the room was empty, with no trace that either woman had been there save for the blood by the window and—

            And the glamour charm. Killian crossed the floor to it as soon as it caught his eye, wedged under a table leg. The chain wasn’t broken, which could only mean that Emma had taken it off for some reason, though why he couldn’t begin to fathom. Perhaps Elsa’s magic had flared out of control and she’d thought that revealing herself might help calm her?

            But there was no snow or ice in the cabin and it hadn’t been a blizzard that had brought them down onto the back slope of the North Mountain.

            “Captain?”

            Killian winced and stood up, tucking the small charm into his breast pocket as he turned towards the door. “Aye, Lieutenant?”

            “There are a couple of people here who are rather insistent about speaking with you.”

            “There’re people _here_? On the mountain?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            He blinked and shook his head. Something was going on and he was damn well going to find out what it was. “Send them in,” he said, moving to pull away the chair still blocking the door. “And Lieutenant?”

            “Aye, sir?”

            “I don’t think you’re going to find her, but search the ship for the queen.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            Killian cursed under his breath as Stevens left and ran a hand tiredly over his face before setting about putting the cabin’s furniture back to rights. He was almost certain that not only were Emma and Elsa not on the ship but that they wouldn’t be coming back. Which only meant that he would have to go out and find them.

            Lifting up the table, Killian nearly dropped it back on the ground when he saw the handprint seared into its surface. He traced the fingers carefully, as if it could somehow tell him what the _bloody hell had happened_.

            He jumped when the door opened and had to quickly compose himself. It would do no good to let his fears and frustrations take over.

            “Elsa?! Oh my goodness I knew it was you! I mean, I didn’t _know_ know until we found the snowman but as soon as I saw the ship I just had a feeling y’know? And— you’re not Elsa.”

            Killian raised a brow at the strawberry-blonde who had come barrelling into his quarters, followed closely by a tall, broad-shouldered young man, but before he could open his mouth to answer the young woman’s excitement seemed to drain out of her all at once.

            “Elsa’s… not here,” she said quietly, as if only just coming to the realization.

            And just like that he knew exactly who his visitors were.

            “Princess Anna,” he started. “My name is Captain Killian Jones. My ship was on its way to your wedding when we found your sister the sole survivor of a shipwreck. We brought her to safety, and hatched a plan to take the throne back from Hans. She _was_ here. I was meaning to go search for her after I met with you.”

            “She left a sign. I thought it was pointing us towards the ship but it must have meant she was leaving it. If you’re going to look for her, I’m coming with you.”

            “Better dress warmly,” her companion — Kristoff, he assumed — said, speaking for the first time. “If Elsa’s gone off on her own, winter usually isn’t far behind.”

* * *

            The sign in question was a squat, oblong-shaped snowman sitting under an unnatural snow flurry some fifty yards from the _Swan’s Flight_. Killian stood back with Kristoff as Princess Anna crouched down in front of it and started speaking.

            “Hey, Olaf. You in there?”

            He raised a brow and glanced over at Kristoff but the iceman didn’t seem surprised to see his fiancée talking to a snowman. Killian had seen a little of the queen’s magic capabilities — she had created a vast expanse of sea ice in the middle of the ocean, after all — but he had no inkling that she could also create _life_ out of the snow. If she could, however, she apparently hadn’t here as Olaf made no move to answer the princess.

            “Can you tell us where Elsa’s gone?”

            Silence.

            Killian cleared his throat before they wasted more time. “Her Majesty didn’t know you were here, Your Highness. She wouldn’t have made the snowman for you. And my crew wouldn’t have expected it to speak.”

            “Look at the snow lower down the mountain,” Kristoff added. “It’s not natural for the lower regions to have fresh snow but not the peak.”

            “She’s covering her tracks.”

            “But it doesn’t make sense!” Princess Anna cried. “If she didn’t want you following her, she wouldn’t have even left a sign to begin with. There’s no way she got close enough to you all to care if you worried about her after she disappeared. No offense,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “It’s just she still keeps mostly to herself around strangers.”

            “She didn’t do it so we wouldn’t worry about her. She did it so we wouldn’t worry about the person who’s with her,” he said, stepping forward to have a closer look at the snowman.

            “You mean she’s not alone?”

            Killian sighed at the ice master’s question, his hand reaching for the glamour charm in his pocket. “No.”

            “That makes so much more sense!” the princess exclaimed. “I know my sister’s magic, and I know what it looks like when it’s out of control. If Elsa had brought the ship down, it would be covered in ice right now.”

            “So… this someone else is the one who brought it down? And Elsa’s trying to help them?”

            “Her,” he corrected, turning to Kristoff. “The queen is trying to help her.”

            Emma had no magic save for the charms and curses that others had laid on her, but he couldn’t deny that the princess had a point. It wasn’t Elsa who had brought down the _Swan’s Flight_ and ice didn’t burn handprints into wood. He was tempted to attribute their misfortune to whatever force had allowed Hans to take Arendelle so easily but if his former prince had been behind it their ship would have been swarmed by his men already.

            Which left the curse as the only explanation. And if Emma thought that her presence endangered the ship he knew she would be trying to put as much distance between them as she could.

            Because _she_ knew that he would go after her.

            “Her who?”

            Killian frowned at the question, but there was no point in lying. Emma was no longer wearing the glamour, and her secret would be out as soon as they found her.

            “My princess,” he said simply.

            They both stared at him, wide-eyed, until Kristoff finally blinked and shrugged off his surprise. “Alright. Well, if it’s magic that’s the problem, Elsa might have taken her to my family down in the valley,” he said pointing the way. “I know a few shortcuts that will get us there. We should be able to catch up.”


	7. The Urn of Arendelle

            They were still a little ways from the valley, following a trail through the trees that blanketed the North Mountain’s lower elevations, when Elsa suddenly stopped and signalled for quiet. Emma waited, half expecting to hear the sound of any number of people who might be pursuing them — _would Killian find out where she’d gone? Would Hans have men patrolling the mountain?_ — but there were only the normal noises of the forest and, if she listened very closely, a faint sort of groaning.

            They’d stopped next to a rock formation that was about twice as tall as she was and Elsa moved to inspect the deep cleft that split it down the middle, gasping as she leaned down to poke her head in.

            “Grand Pabbie? Is that you?”

            Emma held her breath as the rock troll emerged from his hiding place. For a land suspicious of magic, Arendelle certainly had its fair share of strange creatures. Grand Pabbie had green hair and covered his round, rocky form with a cape and clothing made of moss. His ears and nose combined almost equalled the size of his head and made his very human-like hands seem small in comparison. Emma’s magic crackled as he came to a stop before them and the yellow crystals on his belt caught the sunlight and seemed to glow in response.

            “Elsa,” he sighed. Emma had never met any rock trolls before, but she thought his voice sounded a little pained. She wondered if that was normal or if it was related to his not being in the valley that they’d been heading toward. “I am so glad to see that you’re alright, dearie.”

            “Grand Pabbie, what are you doing all the way out here?”

            “We had to flee our home when Hans attacked,” he explained, shuffling a little closer. “I am not sure where the others have gone, but for now… I take shelter here.”

            “Hans will be dealt with,” Elsa said solemnly before turning towards her. “But first, this is my friend Emma. She needs your help with her magic.”

            Emma took a hesitant step forward but Grand Pabbie didn’t seem put off by the light coming from her hands, encouraging her closer with a friendly, “Come here, dearie. Let me have a look.”

            Grand Pabbie closed his eyes and Emma let out a sigh of relief when she placed her hands in his and the sparks of magic eased to a warm glow.

            “You’re afraid,” he intoned sagely. “You have been afraid of magic for a long time. You’re usually skilled at not showing it, but the fear lives deep in your heart.”

            _Tell me something I don’t know_ , she thought bitterly. Anyone who had been as affected by magic as she had would be stupid not to be afraid. But she bit her tongue and waited for the ancient rock troll to say more.

            “He will find you. You already know that the emergence of your power will mark the end of it,” he said, dropping her hands and taking a step back. “There is nothing I can do or say that will change the outcome.”

            “What do you mean?” Elsa asked, alarmed. “Emma, what does he mean?”

            “It means that I’m cursed,” she said dully, clenching her hands at her sides until her nails dug into her palms. “And no magic will break it. Killian’s going to die because the Evil Queen decided I have to suffer the way she did.”

            “Your magic might not stop you from losing him,” Grand Pabbie cautioned, “But it can decide what comes next. Accept your power. It is the only way forward.”

            She shook her head. “I won’t accept something that’s only going to take the man I love away from me! Please, there has to be another way.”

            The leader of the rock trolls frowned and regarded her for a long moment before seeming to come to a decision. “There might be. But you will need the Lady Elsa’s help.”

            “I’ll do it,” Elsa said quickly, moving over to stand next to her and giving Emma reassuring smile. “What— what is it you need me to do?”

            “The secret to shackling your friend’s magic relies on understanding the history of yours,” Grand Pabbie said mysteriously. He opened up his hands and an array of lights leaped up from them, all blues and whites that shimmered in the late afternoon sun. “Tell me, what do you know about your ancestor, Queen Ingrid?”

            “Not very much,” Elsa admitted. “Most of the records from that time were lost when the old castle burned down.”

            “Lady Ingrid had magic just like you,” he began, the image of a young woman appearing in the light projected by his hands. “And just like you, she was feared at first. Some wicked men conspired and trapped her inside of a magic urn. They didn’t have to —” he paused as the figure representing Lady Ingrid disappeared, replaced by the ornamental container. “Queen Ingrid might simply have been freed of her power. You see, if used by someone with good intentions who is also good of heart, the urn can remove magic from a person. It depends on what the wielder considers the source of danger — the magic or the person using it.”

            “It still exists?” Emma asked, leaning down to have a closer look at the image.

            The lights suddenly changed to show a king holding the urn, and Grand Pabbie launched into the second part of his story.

            “It does,” he confirmed. “You see, the urn fell into the possession of the kings of Arendelle, and over the course of generations the stories of its origin were lost. When his father died, King Gunnar inherited the urn along with the crown. The new king was a good man, but a curious one. Gunnar was familiar with the stories about the urn’s power and wanted to know what the source of it was. When he opened the urn to inspect it, he inadvertently freed the Lady Ingrid. The two of them fell in love and to ensure that no one could ever imprison her again, they hid the urn in a cave and encased it in ice.”

            “That’s why you never told my parents about the urn when they came to you for help,” Elsa mused aloud. “They wouldn’t have been able to get to it.”

            “Only Ingrid’s own magic can thaw the ice,” Grand Pabbie nodded. “Happily, her powers do tend to crop up in her descendants from time to time.”

            “Where is the cave?” Emma felt like her heart was lodged in her throat. If she could be rid of her magic, she would no longer be a threat to Killian. She knew he’d be worrying for her, and while she hoped for his sake that he believed her to be supporting Elsa and not the other way around she was still anxious to get back to him.

            “It is a little ways to the west from here. If you leave now, you should make it by sundown.”

            Elsa looked over and gave her a firm nod. ‘Then I suppose we had best get moving.”

            “Be careful, dearies,” the rock troll warned, retreating back into his hiding place. “There are wicked men roaming the land in these dark days. It can be difficult to know who to trust.”

* * *

            Emma knew that there were places in the Enchanted Forest where the sun never set in the summer — the northernmost reaches of the northernmost kingdom came to mind — but the region was very remote and she had never travelled there at the right time of year to witness its midnight sun. It had always intrigued her though, and if she hadn’t been so concerned with the light still coming from her hands she might have better appreciated the way the Arendelle sky was still bathed in pink and gold and orange even though at this time it would have been long past sunset back home.

            “What does it feel like?” Elsa asked suddenly. They’d been mostly quiet as they trekked, not wanting to attract any extra attention. In any case, once Emma had explained to her about the curse, there hadn’t been much more to say.

            “I’m sorry,” the queen apologized. “It’s just, I’ve never met another person with magic before.”

            “I won’t have it for long,” she frowned, flexing her fingers out in front of her. She had no idea how far they still were from the cave, but if they didn’t reach it before the sun slipped further behind the mountains she’d be like a beacon, giving away their location.

            “It feels…” Emma sighed, and tried to find the words. “Right now it feels like my hands have fallen asleep, like they’re tingling with pins and needles that I can’t get rid of no matter how much I shake them. Before, on the ship, it felt like my whole body was buzzing and the pinpricks were hot and sharp all over. It was like my skin was too noisy; like I couldn’t even feel my own body anymore, the way the magic was just taking over.”

            “I’ve felt like that before. Sometimes it would just build up until there was nowhere for it to go but out.” Elsa shook her head and Emma wondered what memory she’d been reminded of. “But it was my fear causing the problem more than anything else. I was so sure that I would hurt people that it became its own self-fulfilling prophecy.”

            “I know what you’re trying to do,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “But I wouldn’t be doing this if I felt I had another option. If I wasn’t also cursed to lose the person I love.”

            “I’m sure your magic can do wonderful things, Emma. Maybe it could help.”

            Emma stopped walking and closed her eyes, wanting for just a moment to block out the light dancing along her hands.

            She would have loved to be able to think that Elsa was right. Would probably have been excited to explore her magic and see what it could do under almost any other circumstances. But with so much on the line, it was not a train of thought that she could afford to entertain.

            “You heard what Grand Pabbie said,” she gritted out. “This is happening because the curse is ending and the curse only ends when Killian dies. I came here to try and stop it. I can’t be the cause. I won’t be.”

            Elsa’s hand tentatively touched her shoulder. “No, you won’t be,” the queen said softly, her words infused with so much warmth that Emma could almost pretend it was her mother comforting her. A sudden surge of homesickness pulled her under like a rogue wave and she wanted so badly in that moment to be home and hugging her parents that she had to hold onto her elbows to keep from holding on to Elsa instead.

            “I think I see the cave,” Elsa said after stepping away and allowing her a moment to collect herself. Emma blinked away unshed tears to look where she was pointing.

            “Let’s get this over with then.”

            She’d thought that a cave housing an ancient magical urn which had been left undisturbed for generations would be a bit more difficult to find, but she’d obviously been wrong to think so. It was clear from the lack of trails in the area that this part of the mountain was not well-traversed and the trees that now towered above them had apparently in their youth concealed the entrance long enough for people to forget about its existence.

            Inside it was unseasonably cold, thanks in no small part to the thick wall of ice protecting the urn which covered the entire back wall of the cavern. The barrier was as impressive as it was imposing and the quality was so perfect that you could see straight through as if it were glass. The urn sat in a chest-high recess in the middle of the cave wall and Emma felt her heartrate quicken, itching to get the deed done with so she could return to Killian and the _Swan’s Flight_.

            Next to her, Elsa took a deep breath and raised her arms. Magic spun out of her hands like a cyclone, destroying the ice rather than melting it. Shards flew out to the sides as she carved them a way through and Emma raised an arm to shield herself from the flying debris.

            The noise and wind dropped off suddenly and Emma marvelled at the queen’s work as the other woman lowered her hands and brushed them clean of frost.

            “Well, I suppose this is it.”

            Emma nodded and took a fortifying breath. “Thank you for coming with me,” she said. “I don’t know where I’d be without your help.”

            “Lost on the North Mountain, probably,” Elsa smirked and Emma grinned back at her.

            “Together?”

            “Together.”

            The gap that Elsa had made in the ice formed an archway wide enough and tall enough that they could go through side-by-side. As they got closer, she could see that the urn itself was tarnished and worn from its use by the ancient kings of Arendelle, though the runic enchantment carved on the front was still clear and legible. Elsa reached a hand out hesitantly, and they both startled when the urn started to hum, as if it had an awareness of its own and could recognize the magic that it had once contained.

            Shaking off her own reservations, Emma moved to take it herself when the urn suddenly disappeared. She recoiled as if burned and she and Elsa spun in unison when a giggle came from behind them.

            “Hans,” Elsa acknowledged, determination and disgust both strong in her voice. “How?”

            Elsa may have been focused on the usurper pointing a sword at them, but Emma’s heart dropped to her feet at the sight of the Dark One standing next to him, urn cradled greedily in his arms. “Rumplestiltskin.”

            The demon grinned menacingly and shifted the urn to one arm so that he could sweep into an elaborate bow. “The one and only, dearie. You didn’t really think you’d seen the last of me, did you?”


End file.
